Entrapment: Torn Across The Lands
by ThunderBoltsAndLightning
Summary: The war had ravaged Idris, torn it into two pieces, and among the ashes two rivalry royals find safety and comfort in each other. Is it enough to save them in the end? THE REFURBISHED VERSION OF ENTRAPMENT.
1. Prologue

**-Note: **I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any character that is associated with the series.

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><p><strong>Prologue.<strong>

Sweat dampened the brow of Jocelyn Morgerstern's brow as she ground her teeth together, grimacing while her body trembled and pushed with as much force as her frail muscles could muster. The sound of her grunts and screams of agony were heard all throughout the chambers and corridors of the newly structured Morgernstern Palace; her voice reverberating gauntly in her own ears.

"Please, milady, just one push more and it shall be free and you can rest." The Empress' midwife pleaded with her, her tone soothing and gentle as she stroked the inner thighs of the Lady Morgernstern to ready her for the final push and contraction of her lengthy labour.

Jocelyn bowed her head wearily and braced herself for the onslaught of pain that was approaching, her body tensing as she pushed as hard as she could manage with a low scream before slumping down. In the silence, a smile rode across her pale face as she heard the distinct cry of an infant pierce the air while her eyelids flickered, unconsciousness consuming her while exhaustion overtook her body as hostage.

Kenna, the Empress' handmaiden carefully swaddled the beautiful life in her arms, taking her to wash the fluids and waste from her pale flesh. As she cleaned the baby, the secretive maid cast a protective glamour around both herself, the child, and the washroom they were in and began the summoning ritual for the Head Warlock himself from the Isle of Magick. The garnet haired woman carefully placed the tiny daughter in the water and lit the flame of the candles around the round with her forefingers, murmuring the incantations under her breath.

"Cum puer tuus benedicet tibi, o filii et Lilith munere deorum."

A gasp resounded in the echoing reticence of the small room as Kenna watched the flames of the candles flicker and ultimately extinguish, cloaking both her and the child in shadowy light. Streaks of window light streamed in through the stained glass structures of the panes, casting hues of colours all around as Kenna warily gazed around, searching for movement.

"Kenna Herondale." A manly voice whispered, his figure stepping out of the shadows to reveal a tall and colourful man with sparks of magick flying around him. "I take this to be less than a social call." He murmured, his exotic blue eyes, slitted in resemblance to a feline's, flicking to the new child. "Her name will be Clarissa and she will be a most useful entity once trained in your gift, sweet Kenna."

The maiden's eyes widened at the revelation the warlock had digressed, a small imperceptible gasp slipping between her lips. "She is to take my energy? She will tame flames as I have?" She exclaimed, her hand coming to clamp across her lips as she shook her head.

"No, she will surpass your skill, Madame Herondale."

"You would condemn an innocent baby to this curse? Fire wielding is the most unstable of all the elements, Magnus Bane, and you know full well what hardships she will face if you bequeath such a task on little shoulders."

Magnus stared at the woman before him with cold eyes, calculating how to explain the severity of the situation to her. He knew from experience just how stubborn those who held the power of the flame were and he also knew that Kenna was no exception to the rule. "It must be done, Kenna. I do know what will come of the child, what she will accomplish with this gift and I can assure you that the feat is astronomical and well worth any obstacle she will be forced to overcome. I feel I must also remind you that I do not need your blessing to take what was once given to you." As if to punctuate his meaning, the warlock's eyes flashed with a magickal warning and power that stated what he could do without the woman's willingness.

There was a long pause in their conversation, the only sound coming from the gurgling princess that was splashing around merrily, unbeknownst to the talk of her future.

"Fine. I give you my blessing, though it is unneeded. I, Kenna Herondale, the keeper of the element and cendrillion of fire, relinquish my gift to Magnus Bane, High Warlock of the Isle of Magick so he may pass it on to my successor." As the words left her mouth, a shudder ran through the maiden's body and red sparks and swirls of orange and yellow energy emerged from within her chest, leaving her to fall to the floor and gasp. Her flushed skin paled drastically as the effects of her element and core left her body, the signs of which showing themselves in her now murky brown hair and almond coloured eyes that were shedding tears, true tears and not those she was accustomed to while being fused with the earth.

Kenna doubled over on the marbled floor, clutching her chest, as she coughed uncontrollably. "Inform milady, she can hide the child from the eyes of the Emperor. Please." She whispered on her last breath her newly browned eyes beckoning and pleading with Magnus'.

"It shall be done." Magnus answered with a bow of his head, walking over to the child in question. He peered at the girl, his eyes alight with wonder at the future she would bring. Reaching down, he grasped her left wrist in his hand, holding it with fragility and care as to not crush her tint bones, and began his work of weaving spells and molding her soul with that of the essence of the earth; granting her with the abilities of the flame.

As he released her arm, he inspected his handiwork as his eyes ghosted over the glowing and burning mark that had been imprinted into the pale expanse of flesh at the base of her wrist. The rune wove delicately, creating a pattern only he and she and those she would allow to see would know as it swirled and curved inward and pointed towards the inside of herself. To her inner core; the source of her power. It was, in Magnus' opinion, among the most beautiful runes he had created.

He gently bent forward and grabbed the small child from the basin of shallow water, turning to gaze at the pool of ashed that laid where Kenna once was with grief shadowing his face. With a snap of his fingers, the ashes were gone and in their place stood a new maiden. Silently, the warlock handed the now dry baby to her and guided the maid to the door that led to the Empress' chambers.

"Keep her safe, Alessa. Valentine must never sever the bond between Clarissa and her power." He demanded before shimmering away into the approaching night.

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><p>'Cum puer tuus benedicet tibi, o filii et Lilith munere deorum' roughly translated means 'come to thee oh son of Lilith and bless thy child with gift of gods'.<p>

Alright, so here's the all new and refurbished prologue. Gives you a bit of insight into how the powers are transferred and who Kenna was. I hope you liked it! Review and tell me what you think? I'd greatly appreciate that.

-TBandL.


	2. Chapter One

_We Are Broken – Paramore (Clary's musings about the lands and her father)_

_Monster – Skillet (Clary and Jonathon)_

_It Ends Tonight - All American Rejects (Clary leaving)_

**-Note: **I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any character that is associated with the series.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: All Aboard.<strong>

For as long as she could recall, Clarissa Morgernstern could not remember being taught the history of the Uprising. Her father, the Emperor of Eathien, had outlawed the teachings many moons ago she figured to discourage rebellions and the threat of being overthrown. What she greatly disliked about the ruling verdict on the matter was such that she thirsted for the knowledge of what had happened to have caused the rift between the two dominating royal lines. She craved to know why it was that Eathien's citisens and Elysien's could no longer live in the harmony that they had originally started with.

Clarissa was not naïve, she understood that her father had done misdeeds to gain his throne; that he was not an example of honesty and hard work as he preferred to be seen as. He frequently saw to it that she was victim to his lapses in that judgment after all and it was because of him that she constantly lived in fear. It was hard enough being a woman in Emperor Valentine's court without adding the fact of magick and being of a different origin than purely human. It was disgusting in his eyes and punishable by death, but he could never bring himself to kill his one daughter and risk losing his crown.

If it were not for Clarissa's mother, Jocelyn, may the Gods rest her soul, the girl never would have known what it was she had racing through her veins. Cendrillionical essence had been thought to be extinct for some time and there Clarissa was, in the royal house, with the power to wield fire and tame it's unruly flames. When her father had learned of her ability, he was enraged and struck her and it had caused her first true flare of power to burst forth.

Jocelyn Morgernstern had died that same night and Clarissa had been blamed and locked away in the utmost tower of Morgernstern Palace, where she could no longer harm anyone.

"Miss Clarissa." The sound of her name roused the princess from the thoughts of land, her father, and of prison cells in disguise. She twisted her body to see who it was that had spoken to her and she found her handmaiden, Alessa. Once Clarissa had set her gaze upon her, the maid began speaking. "Master Jonathon is requesting your presence. He says it is of an urgent manner, miss."

"If he wants to see me, he can call upon me himself." Clarissa's voice was sharp and pointed; the maid understood it to be a dismissal and fled the room.

Clarissa turned her attention to the window once again. She did not particularly enjoy viewing the dull and rotting lands of Eathien; it served as a reminder of how neglectful her father was for anything other than his status and money and longed to set her eyes on a land that was described with words of beauty and peace rather than words of ugliness and disgust. She longed for these things though she had the belief that she never would receive them. Clarissa's thoughts were once again disturbed by the sound of a passage opening, but made no movement to incline the caller to believe she had noticed. She was in no mood to talk to her prat of a brother in any way.

"Sister." The rough voice of Jonathon Morgernstern resonated through the room.

"Brother." Clarissa said as way of acknowledging him, but never moving her body to lay her eyes on him.

"Why must you be hostile to me? I am your brother after all."

"It is my understanding that you disregard me as your sister whilst you are in the public eye, so why should I be amicable towards you?" Her voice was detached and stoic.

Jonathon composed a noise of aggravation before his reply rolled off of his tongue, "You would do well to respect me, Clarissa."

At this Clarissa moved to survey her 'brother' "What would posses me to perform such an action? You deserve no respect or loyalty from a person you place none in." Malice laced the words that flowed from her mouth.

Jonathon's face became devoid of all emotion except rage, he extended his arm and a emphatic slap pierced the stilled and quiet suite. "The laws forbid you from speaking to a man in such ways. Those same laws require a woman to hold all men in the highest order of respect. It would serve you to learn your place in society along with this household. Every detail of you is as worthless as the servants save for your ability."

The reddened imprint of her brother's hand was clear to see on Clarissa's porcelain skin and she could feel the heat of it coursing from the point where it could be seen to the cendrillionical mark on her wrist; calling on her power to come forth. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to force the power away, but could not. When she opened her eyes, Clarissa's emerald coloured irises were there no longer and were now a fiery concoction of yellow, red, and orange and were brighter than her flame coloured curls atop her head. She peered at Jonathon and was satisfied to see him slowly and cautiously stepping backwards. "You should know greater than to strike a person with power above your own. It was foolhardy of you to assume that you could lay a hand on me and escape unscathed." She seethed at her now visibly fearful brother.

"You do not frighten me, Clarissa. You are not but a silly girl who thinks she can fight as if she were a treasured warrior. It is pathetic, just like you dear sister." He ground out, trying to cover his fear with taunts and jeers as he retreated towards the door.

Clarissa was still grappling with the surge of power from within her; trying to entrap the beast within the cage she had wisely set it in previously. "Lies will not help you here, Jonathon." She lay out her hands, palms upward and uttered a single word; a name, "Kenna." In her hands appeared a double-headed scythe with emblazoned blades and fire pooling in the center where she placed her hands. The handle of the scythe was the exact shade of Clarissa's hair, which was now blazing along with the elemental. Her skin had red and orange markings that wound into marks, similar to the rune on her wrist, covering nearly every section of its surface.

Clarissa ran at her brother with blinding speed and struck him the jaw with her fist before slicing through the air and deposited a cut that expanded the length of his chest diagonally. Once the fire from Kenna contacted Jonathon's flesh, it caused the pain of the slash to erupt with a fierce brutality. Jonathon screamed and fell into a crumpled disarray on the floor.

Jonathon's scream had brought attention upon the small room in the emperor's castle; the emperor along with his guards filled the chamber where the two siblings were. Once Valentine set his eyes on his daughter, he immediately became so filled with hatred and disgust that it threatened to overflow and pour from the sockets of his body. "What have you done?" He callously said to Clarissa. She had finally managed to reign in her ability and was now bent over herself with a heaving chest and dreary eyes.

"H-he pro-provoked it." She panted as response while her body trembled with the force of exerted energy.

Valentine's hideous face crumpled at her answer, "Leave my sight before you meet the exact fate your mother has." He growled as he signaled a guard to escort her out the room.

The guard roughly maneuvered Clarissa through the winding labyrinth of the castle corridors and into her room in the terrace. _More a prison than a resting quarter._ _The bastard has no right to confine me behind his invisible bars._ Clarissa's thoughts were spinning with venom and animosity. _I need to free myself from the serpent and his son. I need to flee from Eathien with no thought of ever returning. I need freedom._ With these thoughts fresh in her mind, Clarissa conjured enough fragile energy to channel the protective form of the fire within her and demanded it to encompass her body before striding to her window, disclosing it, and launching herself through it in an explosion of flames.

She plummeted downward until the ground appeared in her view and once it had she slowed and turned herself upward and landed on the ground in a walking manner. She walked with grace and dignity radiating in waves from her.

When she arrived at the gate the guard on duty approached her, "Princess Clarissa, what requires you to be away from the castle at this hour?"

Clarissa flicked her emerald eyes upon him coldly, "You are under employment of this family, what possesses you to believe you may question my actions? You will let me pass with no further delay or you may suffer my wrath." Her voice was icy stone, causing the guard to falter and move away. "Thank you." She versed as she passed through wrought iron archway.

She meandered down the different roads that led to the town in a daze of thoughts that centered around the single question of what she was to do now. She wandered for what felt as if an eternity had passed without her; she never took notice of the passing sceneries or people. Before her mind had processed every minute detail of what had transpired at her palace, Clarissa found herself on a dock. She stood still; absorbing her surroundings when a deep voice slashed through her senses.

"Can I assist you, miss?" The voice asked.

Clarissa lifted and focused her eyes on the man that stood before hair was the shade of mahogany and framed his handsome face perfectly. His skin was dark as well and appeared to have been kissed by the sun in ways that Clarissa could never dream of having for her own fair skin. Of the collective wonder of this man before her, Clarissa was intrigued by his piercing eyes. They were as dark as the other components of this man's appearance and were a shade of blue that seemed to match the sea that was lying in the horizon. "I am terribly sorry. I did not have the intentions of disturbing you, sir. I will be going now." She turned to travel the way she had come, but the path that was expanding before her was foreign to her. She stood for a moment gazing with wide, fearful eyes.

An expression of confusion veiled the man's face, "Have you lost your way?"

"It appears as though I have, but I shall find it once again." She could not stop the hopeless tone that escaped her trembling lips as she spoke.

"Princess Clarissa, you cannot return to your palace." The dark man's voice sounded and in Clarissa's mind warning bells of danger were resonating.

She whipped around and gazed upon this man once again, but this time with more fear than the last. "Why?" She said in such a quiet voice that it came out as a ghost of a whisper.

"Emperor Valentine has set a bounty upon you. Declared that you were to be brought to him whether you are deceased or living."

"Do you intend to take me to him?" The prospect of being in the presence of her brother and father sent shivers throughout her entire being.

The man before her moved his head in a gesture she understood meant 'no'. "I have intentions of insuring you are safe as were your mother's wishes."

Clarissa's ears pricked at the mention of her mother, "What? My mother?"

The man sighed, "We should get under way and board the boat. I can explain this then." He turned and began walking towards a ship, but stopped after a few strides and gestured for Clarissa to accompany him and she did as she was asked.

The man called over his shoulder, "My name, if you were wondering, is Lucian."

"Lucian? Your name sounds familiar. Your surname would not happen to be Graymark, would it?"

Lucian halted in his stride for a moment before resuming and responding, "Yes, it would happen to be."

"My mother spoke of a great man with the name of Lucian Graymark. She claimed him as her truest and dearest comrade. She also told me he was a book keep not a man of the sea." A questioning tone was evident in Clarissa's voice**.**

"I once was."The three words were all Lucian spoke to her before he abruptly halted once again and ascended a latter and hoisted himself onto a beautiful ship that was made of fine wood. The name was inscribed into the wood beautifully; Lycanthrope it spelled. Clarissa stood there gaping at the gigantic hull, pondering how she was to was expected to board in her dress.

"Are you intending to stand here the whole night or were you planning to board?" A new voice sounded through Clarissa's mind and when she turned to see who was addressing her, she met eyes the colour of water. In her mind she could feel the presence of her power as it sensed another cendrillion. She raked her eyes to the new man's wrist and saw the mark that branded him and her alike.

"You are a cendrillion? A water wielder?" She queried the boy that appeared to have been assessing her as another of him as well.

When he spoke, Clarissa detected a hint of an accent, "Yes. It appears that you are a flame tamer, a rare and extraordinary gift."

"I suppose. Now, if you would assist me, I need to board this watercraft and I am obviously dressed in the wrong attire to do so."

Clarissa watched as he quirked an eyebrow, "You expect me to assist you? How?"

"Um, er, well, could you proceed before myself and lower a rope or some form of leverage?" Clarissa's pale face flooded with pink hues as she absorbed the ridiculousness of what she had said.

"I suppose I could if you tell me your name."

_Deceive. He cannot have the knowledge of your true identity or he will undoubtedly shackle you and call on Valentine._ Clarissa's mind was screaming at her to deceive the young man before her and she grudgingly obliged, "Clary. My name is Clary."

"Well, Clary I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Raphael."

Raphael did not wait for her response. Instead he swiftly boarded the ship and lowered a rope for the patiently awaiting Clary and hauled her to the deck. Clary's eyes widened as she gazed around at her new surroundings and excitement washed through her body as the greatest adventure of her life began.

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><p>So, I posted a banner for this, a DIFFERENT one than the one I originally had for Entrapment as this a different story. I have a different place I am taking this as well. So, check it out? It's on my profile. Also, you can listen to the chapter songs on my profile. They fit the chapter nicely I think.<p>

Reviews make me type faster.

-TBandL.


	3. Chapter Two

_Still Breathing – Mayday Parade (Scene One)_

_This Is The House That Doubt Built – A Day To Remember (Scene Two and Three)_

_Kiss The Rain – Yiruma (Dream)_

**-Note:** I do not own the Mortal Instruments nor any character associated with the series.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Mourning The Dreamers.<strong>

Electricity crackled in the air, lightning striking from cloud to cloud and cloud to ground as the skies released it's pent up woes in bursts of rain. The water clung to Jace Lightwoood's tunic greedily, molding the black stained fabric against his toned body as his blond curls splay into his amber eyes, obscuring his vision. His usually handsome face was distorted and set into the lines of a scowl, his golden irises dangerously dark with unbridled anger.

He could distantly hear her voice shouting his name, but he continued walking forward and ignored her pleas. He was in no mood to deal with her foolish antics any longer without acting out and returning her strikes which, he knew, would merit him a rather un-enjoyable time in the stockades. Besides, she was the reason for his present state of anger and dare he say it embarrassment; what would incline him to speak with her?

Lost in the turbulence of his thoughts and the pelting of the rain as it beat his face, chest, and legs, Jace failed to notice how swiftly the girl in question, the woman that was pursuing him, was running toward him. She was quickly catching his pace as he marched on, his trail set to the Wayland Woods, a place known to be home to all forms of unforgiving beasts and creatures that had a penchant for royal blood such as his. Her earth tome eyes widened as she realised his destination and then bulged as she saw one of the fabled daemons come forth from the shadows of the treeline.

Aline stopped all her movements and gasped, her hands flinging up to her face to cup around her mouth as she watched in terror while the horned and black monster swiped at her beloved, his tall form stumbling to the ground ungracefully. Relief flooded her veins as she saw Jace's golden body tense and jump up from the ground only to crouch low. The feeling of her heart thundering painfully reassured Aline that she was indeed alive and and not slumbering as she stood, eyes wide, staring as her love attacked the chittering creature, his hands closing around it's thick neck and twisting once before she saw the thing's body fall to the ground and disappear in a swirling pool of blue.

"Jace?" She called to him tentatively, her voice reserved and trembling.

The prince in question turned and focused his hard eyes on the quivering girl. He wanted desperately to reprimand her for her foolish actions and following him when he had requested she not, but he knew her rank in his father's eyes and thought better than to act on the whim of his wants. After all, if he did in fact act on the wants that lurked beneath his flesh and bone, he and Alec would be the kings and there would be no division in Idris, there would be no Elysien or Eathien.

Ridding himself of the plaguing thoughts of such anarchy, Jace strode forward and grabbed Aline's arm brusquely to pull her along as he trudged back to the castle, which was the last place he honestly wanted to be. While walking, the blond did his absolute best to ignore how the girl cling to his hand wrapped around her petite limb as if it were the last drop of water offered in the blazing and merciless heat of a drought, but the feeling remained in the dark trenches of his mind, nagging at him.

It was a well known fact that due to her family and their high, powerful connections to his father – The King, Aline was in favour of being wed to one of the eldest Lightwood boys. As it were, Aline gave Alec, who was in fact by all rights the oldest, little to no mind or attention and was pleading with her parents to persuade King Lightwood to tie Jace to the girl.

Jace loathed the idea. Aline was the personification of every living thing he could not accept in the world; rather weak both in her physical being and mind, was overindulged when it came to possessions she coveted, and she wanted nothing more than to wed into Jace's family for the status it would associate her with. In his eyes matrimony with The Lady Penhallow was blasphemous, not that he was a soldier of religion.

As the two neared the gates of Lightwood Castle, Jace dropped Aline's arm and slid her hands off his muscles as they were clinging to them and walked as quickly and soundlessly as he could to his chambers to find himself dry and warm clothing. Wandering along the dimly lit corridors of the castle, Jace inhaled deeply and relished in the scent of his home; stone, pine, and fire from the torches. It was heaven for him and calmed his agitation as his feet led him towards his designated area of peace and rest.

His chambers were nothing more than four walls, a bed, a wardrobe, a window, a small alcove that led to a latrine, and was bare of all semblance that any living person resided inside. Though to any persons that knew Jace Lightwood, they would know it reflected him very well.

The sun-kissed prince tugged at his drenched in rainwater tunic, peeling it off his body as if it were a second skin that clung too tightly and threw it to the stones of the ground. Silently he stepped over the wet and cold material to access his wardrobe and selected a pale tan coloured chemise that was adorned with woven jade designs along the edges and chest. Pulling it over his head, Jace fitted the sark to his body before pulling off his trousers and tugging on a dry pair that were deep brown.

Just as his fingers fumbled idly with the button of his pants, there was a soft rap at his chamber's door. With a somber sigh, Jace walked over and pulled open his door to reveal the beauty that was his raven haired and fair skinned sister.

"Isabelle, I feel certain there must be a highly important reason for you to be in my presence lacking your usual scowl?" It was posed as a inquiry, Jace knowing it would pique her annoyance.

Isabelle Lightwood's cerulean eyes flashed with agitation at her brother's antics and she made a roll of her eyes. "Father has summoned us as well as the Heads of House to the Dorment. Apparently I am to ensure your appearance for this gathering, so if you would please.." Isabelle's words trailed away as she gestured with her hand to the open hallway, an expression of sweetness mingled with hostility and determination adorning her features.

With a resigned sigh, Jace turned back into his chambers and called over his shoulder, "Let me grab my boots."

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><p>The Dorment had been constructed in King Robert Lightwood's mind for the sole purpose to have a large place to host meetings and gatherings whenever he had an important announcement to make. It was purely a simple rectangular hall that was built of sandstone and had a slight concave roof and large ornate oak doors.<p>

It was inside the vast and overly dank hall that Jace found himself scowling dismally into the shadows that were dancing against the stone walls due to torchlight as his father droned on about a soldier's duty. Jace loathed recruitment.

Glancing away from the light display and mustering the strength to contort his facial muscles, the blond gazed at his surrounding family members as they stood alongside the boisterous King. His mother, Maryse and the Queen of Elysien, was quite opposite her husband in political stature; she was cunning such as he, but withdrawn and calculating rather than bold and daring when it came to having her name known in public affairs. As a mother she was his opposite as well, she nurtured and bestowed the kindness that was imbued so deeply within herself where Robert would forge and teach to make warriors and heirs to his throne. They both, however, loved their children equally.

Alec and Isabelle stood beside each other, appearing as alike as siblings of separate genders and age could. From hair, skin, and eyes, the pair of them screamed brother and sister, but just as their parents they were opposite and warring personalities. Alec was reserved and a thinker; strategic and Isabelle was temperamental and unafraid to let a person know her thoughts; predatory.

Beside them and leaning against Jace was Max, the youngest in the Lightwood line of kin. He was aged at nine and by far the most intelligent of them all. He, like Jace was a fighter, but like Alec was also a thinker and craved knowledge even at his young age. His spectacles fell to the end of his nose at often times and teetered on the edge of falling, creating an air of innocent clumsiness about him that was meant to accompany children. Jace would never speak of it; but Max was his favourite of his siblings.

".. of the gathering I have summoned you to is this, my friends, I have news from the borders of Eathien and of the House of Morgernstern itself."

The words of his father drew Jace from his inner musings and he snapped his head toward the man with such force that he felt his neck pop with the force. He had not ever known his father had spies in Eathien's dwellings, or that there was a situation that had arisen to call for such an action. Or was it that his father had gone to Eathien himself? Jace knew he had gone on a voyage to rally information of extremists and Valentine's loyalists, perhaps he had seen fit to travel across the Idrian Sea as well.

Again ridding himself of such queries and musings, Jace tuned himself to his father's voice acutely listening to every word he said. Eathien was a topic he never took to heart with a light mind.

"A tragedy has befallen the daughter of Emperor Valentine it seems and she has passed. Valentine has refused to mourn the Princess Clarissa's loss and as such she will not be accepted into Raziel's reaches without a remembrance. So, I declare that we will honour her tonight. All here, the royal family and the Heads of House, but before the ceremony commences I will say that Valentine has ignited a war between himself and the Vampyres as he has accused them for Princess Clarissa's death." There was a brief pause during which Robert bowed his head and in doing so, expected everyone within the Dorment to follow his actions. "We shall now carry on with Clarissa Morgernstern's remembrance." He stated.

Jace did not bow his head for he could not move his body. He could not explain what he felt when realisation settled inside him upon allowing his mind to absorb his father's words about the Princess Clarissa's death. There was a deep and steady pain that pulsed through his chest and threatened his heart, yet he remained silent where he stood. His glassy orbs flickered around him and it rolled through his body that he needed to leave, that he could no longer be within the Dorment and as the thought encased him his body was in motion. Before he could comprehend, he was running, blood pumping through his veins faster as his steps echoed against the stone floor and he propelled further and flung open the doors.

Rain slapped his face and he welcomed the stabbing relief it brought as his mind was overcome with sensation and thoughts and inquiries of what he was doing, why he was sprinting through the rain that had already hindered him once in the day's span, and why he was so upset. His mind was spiraling and collapsing in on itself as it collected the answer to his questions, just one answer to several questions; Clarissa.

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><p>The water of Jace's bath had gone cold some time ago and he had yet to notice as his mind was still immersed in wonderings of why he was hurt by the information of the Morgernstern girl's demise. He could not rid himself of the feeling that it was not true, that it could not be true, but he could not be certain as to why. He was drained and his body was aching as stress permeated through his muscles and constricted his vessels.<p>

It was with these thoughts pouring through his mind that he sighed and heaved himself out of the water's embrace. Though he was physically exhausted and wanted nothing more than to succumb to his body's need for rest and sleep, but his mind was still active and propelled him toward the training chambers.

Jace had enough knowledge to understand that if he were caught out of bed at the late hour he would be severely punished and kept to the shadows of the corridors as he crept forward. He never understood his father's need to set the curfew for even within his own home. Truthfully, Jace rarely understood the meanings beneath the majority of the edicts set forth by his father and found them to be more than an irritation to what could be a more peaceful setting.

Jace continued to wander along the wall of the hallway, fixating his gaze on the smooth stones beneath his feet. His head was filled with such worry, sorrow, queries, and suffering. His dishonesty with his family and even himself forced him to suffer from the guilt he continuously felt. He would not dare speak the truth to any person and he could barely think of it, but it was there in the dark crevices of his mind. Always there and never spoken; the truth he fought to hold captive.

"Jace?"

He stilled; afraid that he had been caught and was to be punished. He swallowed and turned to see who was behind him.

His amber eyes locked with pale blue eyes. The latter of which was filled with question and concern.

"Alec." He sighed in relief at the sight of his brother and leaned against the wall languidly. "Why are you not in bed?"

"Sleep is evading my chambers tonight. Why are you away from yours?" His brother's calm and collective voice was light and conversational.

"I was walking to the training chambers. I feel the need to let loose a bit of stress. Care to accompany me?"

"I suppose."

Jace and Alec began to walk toward where the training chambers were in a companionable silence that neither felt needed to be broken. They often were immersed in such a silence, both swimming in thoughts and secrets, yet feeling at ease beside each other.

Arriving at the darkened destination they had set out for, Alec reached for a torch that lined a wall of the hallway and stepped inside, Jace following and watching wordlessly as his brother lit the small pedestal of oil. It quickly came to life, burning brightly as flames scorched around the whole of the square structure of it that encompassed the room, lighting it brilliantly.

Alec and Jace said nothing as they parted ways, the older sibling walking toward the matted area of the vast room to collect protective gear and strap the black padding to his lean body. All the while his pale eyes were searching his brother's stance and body for any sign to indicate what he was disclosing; what had truly led him to the training chamber and deprived him from the bliss of sleep.

Jace approached the cabinet that held the Shadowhunting weapons; tools used specifically against creatures of the night and shadows. A small smile wore on his mouth as his ocher eyes came into contact with the rows of unactivated seraph blades, sensors, steles, arrows, and bows. He was never certain why, but he had always found comfort in the way the weapons looked and felt in his hands which was disconcerting in a manner. Reaching out, the blond plucked two seraph blades from the cupboard and slammed the doors shut with a shudder, tossing a blade to his brother.

Without hesitation, Jace brought the slick blade to his lips and whispered the name of an angel to it's surface. He felt the warmth of it's energy heat his palm as it came to life, glowing an eery blue and silver colour as it did so, and crouched into a defensive position.

In a matter of seconds his attack was over and Jace was gazing at his brother at the ground below him. Alec's blade had scratched his left arm and blood was dripping out of the gouge that was left in its wake, but Jace could scarcely feel it. His own blade had cut Alec along his face, under his right eye, and there was a river of red pouring from the trail of opened flesh.

Jace reached his hand down to assist his brother and pulled him to his feet, walking towards the cabinet once more to grab a stele. He discarded the extinguished blades as he did so, tossing them into the blazing fire and pausing momentarily to watch them burn away. As he returned to Alec, he wasted little time in drawing the healing rune to his brother's skin to rid him of the gash in his face before applying one to his own body.

"Are you well?" Alec asked, breaking the steady silence that prevailed between the siblings that created an eery tension between the two.

Jace was caught by surprise at his inquiry, "What would drive you ask such a thing?"

Alec sighed, "I hate that you deflect queries with queries, it is truly maddening. And I ask because I am worried about the manner in which you are dealing with the death of Princess Clarissa. Your anger is tangible in more than a solitary way, Jace. "

Jace turned away from his brother and gazed at the cracks in the northern wall while he inhaled deeply, "Alec, I cannot speak to you the answer you long to hear. I myself do not have knowledge for why I ran and am behaving in such a way." He exhaled and set his eyes once again upon the sibling before him, "I do not believe the Princess to be deceased. If she were, her father would have mourned for her. And if she truly is then I believe Emperor Valentine is the person that murdered her." The words sprang from his mouth without his beforehand knowledge of what he intended to speak. Though the words shocked him, they oddly rang with conviction and clarity and seemed true.

"What would posses you think such a thing?" Alec pressed, eyes wide and voice surprised.

"Truly think of it, Alec. What form of man would refuse to honor his only daughter? She cannot be deceased or she is and his is the hand that struck her down."

Alec's eyes flashed with understanding and his face appeared murderous, "If what you speak of is true, I would not put it past the man to be the hand behind his wife's demise too. I hope the Princess is alive and well, but that would raise the catechize of why Valentine would announce her death." His face was critical and lost in the throes of deep thought as he contemplated the conspiracy his brother and he were spinning.

Jace's voice was solemn when he spoke, "The only fact we can be certain of, is that there is something plaguing the city of Eathien and it is in the form of its emperor."

* * *

><p>Jace fell against the comfort of his bed yawning from the strain of exhaustion. He and Alec had stayed until the sunrise of dawn discussing the troubles and woes of Eathien and the possibilities of Valentine's involvement behind the mishappenings. It had caused Jace to feel productive and wholeheartedly useful and he greatly enjoyed the feeling, vowing that he would ensue reasons to feel as such again.<p>

He pulled his tunic from his body and cast it aside on the ground before tucking his body under the blankets of his bed and succumbing to his body's weariness; his senses losing themselves in the world of dreams.

_He seemed to be in his bedroom, but there was a presence to it that he could not quite place. Inhaling, an intoxicating scent overtook his senses; it smelled like spices of the market, the ones that were sweet but sensual all the same mixed with the sea and forest and it was tantalising. _

"_Jace."_

_Jace's eyes opened and he whirled around to see a ruby haired beauty standing in his doorway, her hair cascading down to the middle of her back in waves and framing her porcelain skin and face. Her wide green eyes poured into his as she bit her bottom lip uncertainly and walked forward. The small motion drew Jace's eyes to her dress, it's bodice clung to her in a rather risque manner as the corset seemed laced as tight as it would could be, the neckline cut straight across her small chest causing the sleeves to hang gracefully down along her shoulders and exposing her skin. The body of the dress flowed to the floor around her ankles and swayed with her movements, the colour was silver and gleamed as if it were metal on her skin. _

_Jace's breathing hitched as his eyes scoured every inch of her body and met her irises once more. "Clary, why did you.." He began but was silenced as she advanced on him, pressing her lips to his as soft as a feather floating on the whisp of a cloud. _

"_Just feel for once, Jace. Our time is limited." She whispered over his mouth and slanted hers over his once again, her hands tangling in his golden locks of hair and pulling herself closer to his body. _

Jace woke with a start and sat upright in his bed, his body damp with sweat. His mind was whirring with inquiries and startled by the girl of his dream as he felt a connection stronger than he knew to her and also a strange familiarity as if he once met her.

Sighing, he slumped down in his bed and closed his eyes and willed for sleep to take over his still weary mind and body and hoped it would come and be dreamless.

* * *

><p>FIRST CHAPTER THAT IS COMPLETEY REDONE!<p>

I must say that I am so excited about it, but also really anxious and nervous because what if you all hate it to pieces? And for those of you that think the prologue counts as the first redone chapter, that would be a no because the prologue in my eyes is not a real chapter. Capiche? Kaythanks. Rofl.

Anyway, I do hope you like this chapter update. If not, I am really sorry, I tried my best to keep to the original but I just couldn't and this sprang forward in my mind from that.

Drop a review for me and tell me what you think of this? They do quite make me happy, I mean I like scream and dance when I get those fellers. No lie.

-TbandL.


	4. Chapter Three

_NJ Legion Iced Tea – A Day To Remember (Scene One)_

_So Jealous – Tegan and Sara (Scene Two and on)_

**-Note:** I do not own the Mortal Instruments nor any character associated with the series.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Crossing A Line. <strong>

Waves wracked against the Lycanthrope, tossing the vast ship to and fro among the sea as it sailed onward and broke through the coming current. Salt stains lightened areas of the deep coloured wood, indicating to wondering minds to the vessel's age as the cracks and marring scrapes along the beautiful ship's bow, deck, and hull gave clues of the many adventures the Lycanthrope and it's crew had seen.

It was the minor infractions of the boat that mesmerised Clarissa as she stared at the wooden structures that supported and created her newfound home. She had boarded the ship no more than four days ago, yet it felt as if an eternity passed with each moon and sunrise that sailed over the horizon. A loneliness had grabbed ahold of Clarissa's heart that became more and more potent with each passing minute and hour. She surmised that though she did not miss her family or the palace she had spent sixteen years of her life maturing within, she missed the memories that Eathien held under it's wretched core and the taint of her father.

Along with her growing loneliness, Clarissa had a feeling of peace settling through her. The peace, she assumed, came from being so close in contact with both the elements and another Cendrillion, but due to which element she was in close proximity with she could feel her power prickling within herself, which was a notion she was terrified of.

It seemed that she was not the only one who noticed her unruly power either as Lucian and Raphael both questioned her about if she would accept training her abilities in the same manner Raphael had been instructed when he was younger and his own power had been out of his control. Clarissa had gratefully accepted the offer in hopes of being able to live a mundane life in the future.

It was routine for her to circle around such thoughts: training, home, her uncertain future, and the feelings that being aboard the Lycanthrope elicited, but as the sunset drew dimmer in the distance Clarissa pushed away from her perch upon the steps that led to the upper deck and walked down to the sleeping quarters. As she was the sole female on the vessel, Lucian as captain, allowed her to be given her own chamber and removed the supplies it once held down into the hold below.

As she walked, Clarissa gathered the silk of her dress so as not to tread on it and dirty the material further and began her small trek to her cabin. She paused a moment to glance at the beauty of the sunset disappearing beneath the shimmering sea and inhaled the scents of salt, water, wood, and smoke from the small torches and lanterns that lined the ship to give it light to see by, it all created an atmosphere Clarissa adored to an extent. Turning back to the small hall of quarters before her, the petite girl came face to face with a rather savage appearing man whose face was split in two with the ill smile he was wearing.

Pulling a hand to his mouth and placing a cigar between his thin lips, the man struck a match along the side of the hall and Clarissa's eyes darted to the miniscule flame that danced to life. Coughing slightly as she inhaled the taste and smell of tobacco, Clarissa stepped backward and gasped as her backside hit the door causing a peal of warning bells to signal throughout her body and a small flicker of her ability begin to soar to life.

"Y'know I heard 'bout the pretty little thing our good ole cap'n had brought with him from Eathien. Just could not peg her to be this young." The man rasped, his voice thick and heady as well as uneducated and slurred. His eyes looked over Clarissa's small body, a gleam of foul intentions and pent up desires.

A shriek was lodged in Clarissa's throat as her body remained immobile and she stared at the disgusting person before her with tears burning her vision. She could feel the essence of fire and Kenna calling to her as the situation of being cornered and caged reached through the clouded levels of her mind and delve into her veins; lacing her body with the fear she currently felt and adding the need to summon forth her companion. As the man neared her Clarissa focused her eyesight on the tiny embers of fire that burned within the cigar held by his mouth and willed them to burn hotter, faster, brighter; any possible way she could imagine flames and fire to burn.

She felt warmth spreading through her body, chasing away the cold fear and numbness she was feeling at the surprise and depravity of the situation she was in, and focused harder and before her eyes she watched the cigar's embers emblazon and burst forth with flames and scorch the man's lips as the cigar disintegrated to ash.

To her dismay, it did not halt the attacker from hunting and having his prey as Clarissa had hoped. Her small outburst of power provoked the man further and he advanced on her, grabbing her arms roughly and whirling them both around before slamming her against the wall with a bruising force that elicited a scream from the princess in disguise.

"What in Raziel's name are you!" He bellowed at her, slamming her backward once more.

A sickening snap mingled crunching sound pervaded Clarissa's ears and pain flared within her left shoulder, rocketing through her whole arm and causing her to scream out yet again. She once again felt tears blurring her eyes and tried her hardest to hold them at bay, not particularly wanting to anger the man further by burning him once more, and failed as the dam broke free and a torrent of fiery teardrops sprang free from her blazing irises.

The crewmember jumped a bit in fright and shock as fire poured from the girl's eyes and then winced as it burned his hand, leaving a blackened and raw spot behind. Seeing the wound she formed further angered him and he struck out with the same hand and slapped her across the face, his band of marriage cutting into her face and breaking the skin enough to cause her to bleed and he smiled in triumph.

Clarissa felt the blood begin to pool along the slim line of the cut that formed under her eye and she felt a snap within herself and a surge of power flooded her senses. Her tears were drying, the flames reversing their downward pattern and returning to her eyes as they sensed the rise in activity within as well, and she swallowed the dry lump in her throat as she looked up and gazed into the dark eyes of the man who pinned her with her bright and glowing scarlet eyes that mimicked the colour of flames.

"Your mistake was thinking I was defenceless." She murmured under her breath and then raised her hand to the man's face as if to slap him, but her hand was alight with the flames she now had dancing around her body. She struck the man's cheek, flames and fire alike streaming from her body at the connection and she felt him release her and she fell to the floor, her head landing on her arm just in time to block her from the hard wood of the ground. Exhaustion and dizziness were dragging her down into a black oblivion and as her eyes flickered she barely saw two forms enter the tiny hallway and felt hands on her body before she felt the tug pull her deep into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>There was an uncomfortable feeling resonating all through Clarissa's body as she slowly awoke, her eyes peeling open slowly as if it were a danger to allow sunshine and air to pass through their lashes. The feel of cotton stretched against her bare skin alerted her that she was naked yet beneath what she hoped was the bedsheets of the cot that was in her quarters of the Lycanthrope and she also prayed she was alone.<p>

"You gave us quite a scare there, Clary."

She was not alone it seemed as she heard Lucian's smooth voice call through the small room and then saw his face illuminated as he lit the lantern she kept on a table by the head. He was sitting across from her cot in a chair that appeared to need multiple repairs and was staring intently at her, worry etched on his face.

"What happened?" She croaked out, her voice was raw and thick from her sleep and her throat was dry from screaming.

Lucian sighed and looked away for a moment as he searched for a gentle answer and explanation and slowly got up from his chair and walked over to a small pail of water and prepared Clarissa a cup, handing it to her and easing her up from her laying position as she clutched the sheets around her body and held them tightly to her chest to avoid exposure.

"To begin, I would like to know what you remember from that night." He finally responded curiously. Truthfully, he did not think he could tolerate knowing what transpired to cause the scene he and Raphael walked in on, but he knew that it was his duty to Clary to protect her and inform her what had happened after.

Clarissa frowned as images flashed through her mind and she began recanting the tale of merely wanting to retire to bed and being stopped by a brute of a man to Lucian and of how her power began building and building until she felt a spark ignite and then nothing. There was black in her mind after until waking to Lucian sitting there with her and her lying naked in bed. "And on that, why is it that I am naked? Where are my clothes, Lucian?" She inquired desperately for she could not stay bedridden for the remainder of this journey nor could she walk around with a bedsheet tethered to her body.

Lucian's piercing eyes studied her for just passing of a minute before he looked to the floor and leaned back in his chair, a hand combing through his greying hair. "As you summoned your power to such a decibel, your body became overloaded and your mind protected itself in the only form it could by pulling away from your body and in doing so you fainted from the exertion. Raphael and I walked in just in time to see your eyes roll back in your head; the whole hall is blackened in places and Cale's erm, well, he's no longer a passenger on the Lycanthrope. You scared us, Clary, you have not been awake for a full week, seven days marking today. If it were not for your breathing we would have believed you to be deceased."

He paused and glanced away from the girl laying before him and wrung his hands before he rubbed them over his face in exasperation. "If it were not for the sole fact that Raphael had sensed your burst of power, we never would have found you, Clarissa." He breathed, peering over at her with teary eyes and sighing once more. "As for your clothing debacle, when we found you, your clothes had begun to burn off of your body and were beyond repair and we were forced to strip what we could off of you." He explained in a flurried mumble.

Clarissa flushed at the information of being seen naked by not one but two men and that they were Lucian and Raphael were furthering her embarrassment. She shook away the thoughts that flew through her mind at the idea of such a scandalous situation and focused on the other more important information that had been disclosed. "Why am I in no pain? I could swear that the man, Cale as you called him, broke my shoulder?" As she asked she looked at the shoulder in question and saw no bruising or discolouring that would indicate that she had been in any form of pain there recently. Knowing that, she lifted one hand from her sheets to her face to feel for the cut she had been given and again found no sign of it having been there.

"Your power can heal your body from any physical injury you receive. I believe it was one of the reasons you have been asleep for as long as you have; your body was healing you extensively." Lucian answered her steadily as he stood once more from the chair and walked towards the door. "Now, dress yourself and come to the deck. Raphael would like to speak with you." He gazed at her for a moment, a wistful gleam passing through his eyes as he studied her, before turning and exiting the room.

"And what am I to clothe myself in?" She asked to an empty room as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lowered them to stand. Her body was stiff and rigid and protested her movements, but Clarissa ignored the pain and walked around her room a bit, venturing into the head to look in the mirror and comb through her tangled hair with her fingers. After determining her hair was much too untameable to be left falling around her shoulders for the day, Clarissa braided the thick strands down her back and tied it together with a small piece of twill.

Walking back into her room, she noticed the corset of her gown she had worn aboard the craft was laying atop a trunk that was not in her room before her incident with the man. Heaving a sigh, she slowly walked toward the box and picked up her discarded corset and laced the familiar flower designed item to her chest. Next, she slid the buckles and locks up and opened the trunk and peered inside to find that it was full of smaller sized trousers and she felt a frown pucker at her lips; she just knew she would ridicule herself in men's apparel.

Once she was dressed and even had a pair of rather unflattering boots strapped to her feet, Clarissa assessed herself in the shining surface of the mirror and watched her face fall with worry. She was dangerously exposed in her corset and pants, but she assumed that if Lucian had any other garments she could possibly wear she would have been informed.

Resigning herself to this form of torture, Clarissa walked out of her quarters and grimaced as she noticed the charred wood of the hallway. Some pieces of the once reddish hued browns were now flaked and ashy or had disintegrated altogether to leave various sized holes. Had she truly caused this amount of damage? That notion frightened and excited her all the same and left a feeling of pride humming through her being at the force of what of her untamed ability could do when tested.

Pulling herself away from the dismantled hallway, Clary resumed her tread towards the deck in search of Lucian and Raphael with a renewed vigour and thirst to train and hone in her unruly flames and tame them to the extent that she could witness the damage they inflicted firsthand and conscious rather than days later. The thought of such a beautiful occurrence, feeling, and sight brought a small, hopeful smile to the young girl's mouth.

On deck, Clary immediately felt the calm and watery presence blend against her own before she was able to see his sitting form. He, Lucian, and few other crewmen were atop the deck at the hour it was and Raphael seemed the only person collected and free of any worries at the moment, Clary observed as she approached him. He was watching the clouds bend and shift their forms in the sky above them as he sat quietly on a barrel of what Clary assumed was either fuel, ammunition, or ale.

Not particularly wanting to disturb his serenity and peaceful stature, Clary stood beside the darker man's form and gazed thoughtfully at moving water their vessel cut through; watching the waves and ripples that came and went with the motions of the ship. It was not until she heard Raphael speak that she realised just how absorbed in the effortless flow she had become and yelped in surprise at the intrusion and in shock.

"Though viewed as an enemy to your own element, the water is a tantalising and relaxing hypnosis when you allow it to be."

Clary merely nodded her assent and pulled away from the edge of the boat, sinking down to the floorboards and leaning against the side as she sat there, staring at the Cendrillion before her with curiosity.

"How are you feeling, Clary?" He asked quietly, turning to lock his mesmerising eyes with hers.

"Rather tired and sore, I should say."

Raphael nodded at the girl's words, a small smile cracking his lips. "That often happens when a Cendrillion's power performs a surge. My first performance of such a task granted me little more than a lapse in enough strength to even walk for a fortnight. Your body, however and thankfully, seems to have healed itself rather decently."

A slight and rosy blush tinged Clary's face as she formed an answer, her thoughts and questions jumbling together in flustered embarrassment and excitement. "I do not possess the knowledge or base of inklings to contemplate what is happening to me, Raphael. When the flames take me over, consume my mind and body, I feel completely overwhelmed and lost to the force and sheer will of what is being taken from me. It frightens me, yet there is some fraction of me that thrives on those feelings." Through her small confession, Clary closed in on herself, pulling her heavily clothed legs closer to her chest and resting her chin atop her kneecaps as she stared dully at the planks of wood she was huddled against.

"I felt the same." She heard him whisper minutely after a brief pause of silence. Looking up, she found the wiser and older man staring at her with understanding and gentle eyes, the blue hues glistening and shimmering as if all the water in all the world could be trapped within his irises. "I can instruct you on gaining the control you so seek and in turn you may start to possibly cage the power whenever you are in a threatening situation. It will be a lengthy and rather tiring process. It could also prove to be dangerous to you both physically and mentally, but if you are willing to be taught I will do this." He spoke with such a genteel finesse, but Clary heard the threat that hid beneath and the falter that fell on few of his words and she quickly gathered that teaching other Cendrillions was far from ideal for the sailour in front of her.

Nodding and maintaining eye contact, the ruby haired princess nodded. "I shall do all as you say."

* * *

><p>Two days had passed since Clary's conversation with Raphael on the deck had transpired. Two days had passed since he had said to her that he would train her in the art and skill of the Cendrillions. Two buggering days and yet all they had done was revert back into their routine of Clary sitting on the stairs that led to the higher deck and Raphael taking his position as second in command.<p>

He had told her that they needed to acquire something before they began her training and that they were sailing in the direction of where they would find such something, but it did little to appease her anxiety and wandering mind. Clary ached to train and her power was crackling with the looming possibility.

Sighing and pushing off from the steps, she walked over to the ship's edge and looked over, hoisting her body up on her arms to better see their desired location. Her eyes widened and bulged comically as she took in the view of the swirling colours that permeated air and fog encased landmass that was encroaching upon the horizon. Sparks were flying and what appeared as glitter floated and hovered in the air around the jagged rocks and as the fog thinned, Clary could see the form of a large wrought iron fence circling around the island.

Angry, she jerked away from the siding and sprinted towards the stairway she had just been sitting upon and ascended them two a time, huffing with rage and beginning to see flakes of red dancing across her vision as she did so. Slowing her pace just a bit, she marched directly to Lucian and Raphael where they were stationed at the helm and talking in hushed tones and tapped their shoulders.

"Explain to me why we have come to the Isle of Magick. Now. This place is crawling with the filth that once ran amok in Eathien and Elysien alike and defiled the lands of Idris and you dare take me to the creatures that reside within it's shell and core? Are you daft?" She yelled, small flames sprouting from her shoulders and hair as her voice climbed up the scales.

Lucian looked over at Raphael and the pair shared a signified glance before the former nodded and sighed, turning his attention back to the distraught female in front of him. "Clary, everything you know of warlocks are lies. They are not feral or filthy; they are rather gentle hearted beings that nurture the earth and care more about ensuring it's survival than their own. Please try to see reason and not act foolishly whilst here." He pleaded in a somber voice before gesturing to his first mate to continue with the explanation; the part he could not speak of.

"When I told you we needed to acquire something to begin your training, I meant something here, Clary. It is of the utmost importance we do this and that you do so with a clear and rational mind. Please behave when we go ashore. Please." Raphael followed Lucian's lead and voiced his reasoning for bringing her to the Isle.

Dumbfounded and utterly confused, Clary agreed slowly if only to appease her curiosity as to why they actually were there and what they needed so badly. She was far from pleased about the situation and was uncertain if she believed Lucian's explanation about the warlock's play in earth's survival, but she kept her mouth closed, knowing she would say the wrong things if she dared to speak.

Within an hour of her spying the island, Clary found herself being towed towards the Isle in a small rowboat with Raphael manipulating the water to carry them swiftly yet as naturally as possible as to not alert the warlocks and raise suspicion of an attack.

As they walked towards the fencing structure, Clary smiled sweetly at Raphael as she thought that perhaps they may not be allowed entrance, but the smile vanished as he said a word in a foreign language and the gate rumbled and dissolved, creating a passage for the pair of them.

"All one needs is a password to gain admittance. You would do well to remember to keep your face void of your obvious distaste of being here, they will not hesitate to think you an enemy for such a matter." He whispered to her as they passed through the fence.

The sound of the bars reappearing and thundering loudly as they pounded back into the earth startled Clary slightly, causing her to jump and spin around to stare at where they had previously been standing. She so desperately wanted to dispel the feeling of dread from her organs, but it would not release her.

"You never did say, why are we here?" She asked with a tremble as she turned back around, groaning as she smacked into something warm and hard, yet soft all the same.

"We have come for him, Clary. Meet Magnus Bane."

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><p>So, I have decided that this chapter needs to be cut in two for obvious reasons and I am leaving it here. I hope you like this version of the chapter? Review and tell me? Btdubs, I am so very sorry for the delay on updating, I just resumed school and it is beyond crazy, bro, like you don't know. The administration has me in the wrong grade! WTF. It's just dhjasbdiajskd. Y'know? Ew. So, anyway, let me know any thoughts and whatnot. I'll be back!<p>

-TBandL.


	5. Chapter Four

_Believer – Viva Voce (Meeting Magnus)_

_The Line - Battles (Ritual)_

_Iris – GooGoo Dolls (Dream and Bathroom scene)_

_Le Disko – Shiny Toy Guns (Training)_

**-Note: **I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any character that is associated with the series.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Blood Letting<strong>

Stumbling back slightly, Clary looked up at the person she had collided with and felt incredulity fill her entire body as she stared. He was tall, clad in what appeared to be leather which was a rare commodity to come by, and glitter was dusted all along his inky black hair and cascading down to his broad shoulders. The most unnerving and surprising feature Clary examined of the man before her was his eyes, slitted like those of a feline's and coloured to match the sky at dusk, they seemed to hold all the secrets of the world as well as the dangers.

Finding her voice and stepping further back as she crossed her arms over her chest in a protective and defensive manner, Clary finally managed to say what was lacing her thoughts. "You are a warlock? The one we need?" Her voice purveyed exactly what she felt; that this was some form of a cruel joke. That this man could not possibly be a warlock nor the one they sought.

"High warlock to be exact." The man said, his voice rumbling with it's deep tenour. "As Raphael has said, I am Magnus Bane and I am the one you need, yes. Now, if you please, we need to take this discussion to more private chambers." With those words Magnus turned and began walking into the heart of the Isle and Clary watched, fearful, as Raphael began to follow. Deciding it best to not be caught in the land of warlocks and witches alone, she huffed and scurried after the retreating men.

The village, Clary found, was rather ordinary aside from the ever present swirl of colours that seemed to rain down over everything on the island. There were pubs where she saw warlocks and witches going in and coming out with languid smiles plastered on their faces as they stumbled down the streets, various apothecaries which she figured were useful for the population to buy their needed crafts for spells or enchantments or whatever it was they did, and there were small huts that she guessed the magickal beings lived in. All in all, she was surprised to see that the warlocks and witches were not nearly as uncivilised as she had thought and been told.

The trio halted their movements as they approached a rather large looking cabin and Clary watched as Magnus neared it, placing a hand on it's door and felt her eyes widen as the wood disappeared to create an ethereal essence that resembled smoke twined with water.

"What is that? What did you just do?" Clary asked, her voice wavering in awe and fear of the being in front of her.

Magnus turned and looked at the fire keeper, his eyes sparkling with the magick he just exerted. "I created a portal into my house. In these parts, it is the sole way a warlock can enter a home; marking the place with their magickal signature." He explained before walking through the cloudy doorway, beckoning for Raphael and Clary to follow.

As she passed through the magickal web, Clary felt a warmth spread through her core and calm her fidgeting nerves. It felt as if she had been submerged into a pool of bath water that was easing away her worries and woes, but the feeling died away almost as swiftly as it had washed over her as she pushed through and entered Magnus' house.

The place smelled of different spices and herbs and would have burned in Clary's nostrils if she had not yet become accustomed to such aromas when she visited the apothecaries in Eathien for aids in ridding herself of the few diseases her body had ever contracted. The feel of the room she found herself in was very earthy and welcoming to her in a way that almost made her uncomfortable; she should not feel acclimated in a stranger's midst in such ways.

Spiraling around to locate the two men, Clary found Raphael perched on a stool and staring intently at her with a steady and calculating gaze and then felt the prickling presence of Magnus walk up behind her. "Why have you brought me here?" She questioned, addressing Raphael.

"If I am to train you, you will need him, Clary. He will become your greatest and strongest ally."

"And why do I need a warlock's assistance?"

This time, it was Magnus that answered her and placed a hand on her shoulder to pivot her around to look into his eyes in an effort to express to her that he was telling the truth. "We warlocks have existed much longer than the Cendrillionical race and when the first of your kind came into this world, we viewed them as a threat and all but exterminated them. The first of the Children of Lilith quickly realised that as they destroyed each Cendrillion, their magickal presence would be absorbed by the warlock or witch that struck it's owner down and would ultimately rip that witch or warlock apart. That is when one of the Elders drew in each of the four elements that had been taken from the Cendrillions and imbued four mundanes with the power. This created the four keepers of the elements. You see, if you had been living then, you would not be the solitary keeper of fire, there could have been thousands, but as it was they were killed.

In an effort to balance out the order, the Elders declared that for each Cendrillion in creation there would be a warlock or witch counterpart. Blood ties and oaths were made to bind the two together. That, my dear is why you are here. I am your counterpart and if you want to hone your power and control it to the fullest of your abilities, you will need to bind yourself to me." Magnus explained in a solemn voice, trying desperately to force the girl to understand but not be frightened of her fate.

Clary stepped away, falling to the floor amidst her flurry of motions, and felt as though all the air had been pulled from her. "I have to blood-let?" She whispered in a hollow voice, her eyes fluttering close against the fearful tears that were burning through her eyes. Blood was never something she had been fond of; seeing it, smelling it, it was all foul to her and scared her in ways she would never have the strength to admit.

Magnus crouched down to where Clary was sprawled on the floor and tentatively reached out to grasp her hand, tracing a line along her palm. "Just here." He whispered, indicating with a nod towards where their hands were clasped together. "I promise you, it will not hurt in the way you think and will be over before you could ever process it, but it is indeed necessary for your survival, dear one."

Nodding almost without thought or feeling, Clary straightened into a proper sitting position. "Okay. What needs to be done?" She was uncertain where her resolve came from but she was glad to be more secure of herself at the given moment than she would ever let on.

Magnus stood up, gently pulling his soon to be bondmate along with him. He steered her towards the small table that sat in the middle of the room, pushing away the clutter that was upon it before placing a tall candle in the centre. The candle started with the colour of scarlet and slowly transformed into a deep purple towards the base; each colour representing the different aspects of the magick that was to transfer and meld together. Magnus knelt down, positioning himself to the east of the candle and gestured for Clary to sit opposite him. "If you would kneel, we can begin." He stated, producing an athame from a small drawer.

Clary, eying the offending metal precariously, lowered herself into the proper position and bit her lip in anticipation. She inhaled deeply as she saw the flame of the candle dance to life and then watched silently and curiously as Magnus lifted the blade to the palm of his right hand, drawing a diagonal line along his skin. Blood bubbled up through the ripped seam of flesh and Clary felt nausea roll in her stomach as she inhaled it's metallic scent of tang and rust.

Magnus handed the knife to Clary, waiting for her to draw the same cut along her own skin before he began winding his spell around them. "Lift your hand over the flame and allow the blood to drop down along the wax." He instructed, showing her exactly what needed to be done with his own hand. As her hand replaced his above the orange glow of the flame, his eyes closed in concentration while he deftly murmured the needed words. "Quantum sangunis nostri corporis subiungit et fit unus spiritus, sic et anima nostra merge."

Clary felt an odd sensation race through her body, warming her to the point that she thought her power may burst forth and set the room alight. And then it was gone. She retracted her hand from it's suspended position in the air and looked at it critically, her eyes pouring over the newly developed and healed scar that started in a tinge of red and ended in a deep purple hue as it sliced across the soft skin of her palm.

She was about to question what the details of their newly formed bond included when Raphael's voice cut through the room, seemingly reading her thoughts. "Now that you have this bond, you will never be alone, Clary. Magnus will forever be a part of you and you of him until you relinquish your tethers to each other. You will feel a presence in your mind; a warmth that signifies that he is with you and you can, using that feeling, call upon him from wherever you are if you find yourself in danger or would just like some company."

Clary nodded, taking in the information with little attention as she continued to stare at her new scar. It was entrancing to her, calling out to her to touch it and feel the blending of the two essences. Lifting her hand, she brought her fingertips to the smooth yet rough patch of coloured flesh, lightly feathering along the path it made. She watched with wide eyes as sparks of electricity and swirls of red and purple alike erupted from her palm, pulling her mind into the vortex it was creating.

Eyes flickering back and forth wildly, Clary stared at the scenes playing across the vast whiteness behind her eyelids. They were all of Magnus, showing him as a young child as he developed his magick, forwarding to an event that had fire springing into Clary's eyes as she watched her mother and Magnus discuss the factors of death and what would come of the baby that was asleep in Jocelyn's arms. Pushing out of the memories, Clary fell over to the floor panting as her head pounded furiously; recovering from the emotional onslaught that crushed her moments ago.

"What. What was that?" She finally asked, her voice faulty and gasping still for air.

"That, my sweet, was an effect of the bonding. Touching the scar will allow each of us to slip into the others memories and thoughts." Magnus explained to her, peering at her critically and cautiously.

Sending the loose strands of her hair flying, Clary shook her head vigorously in denial. "No. I cannot have you perusing my closest memories and hearing my thoughts. I cannot." She whispered, gaining her strength slowly and pushing off the ground to a wobbling but standing position. She looked at the two men before her and felt her face crumple before she ran. She opened the door as fast as she could and sprinted out of the cabin towards the gate that sealed the Isle.

Raphael made to run after the retreating girl, but stopped once he felt Magnus grab his arm. "Allow me." The Warlock said before shimmering out of sight, the outline of his eyes glowing eerily where he once stood momentarily before they too disappeared.

* * *

><p>Magnus found Clary standing at the gate that seemed to bar her in as if she were a prisoner, her hands tightly circled around the iron as she gazed longingly at the water below and the small outline of a ship. He understood that she was overwhelmed and also that she was in fear of him and what he could do, but already he could feel her trickle of emotions floating into his mind and among them he felt her acceptance of fate.<p>

"You have been playing a very dangerous game, Clarissa." He said softly, hoping to keep from startling the poor girl.

Clary felt her eyes widen at the usage of her true name and she released her grip on the gate to turn around and gaze at the Warlock with bated breath, terrified of what would happen next. "How-?"

Magnus cut across her questions, knowing what they would be, and replied with a soft yet steely voice. "I can only bond with one Cendrilion; Clarissa Morgernstern, if you were not her the bonding would never have been workable. I gave you your powers, Clarissa. I would know your essence anywhere."

Clary felt her eyes pricking in fear of being found out, of being turned over to her tyrant of a father. She glanced over her shoulder, desperate to find an escape from the all too surreal predicament and found none, she did not know how to weave the magick that would release the gate. "You will not give me up, will you?" She finally asked, seeing no other way out than just cooperating.

Magnus approached her slowly, a look of gentle kindness wearing across his face. "Not in ten lifetimes would I ever bend to the whims of the Emperor. I vowed to keep you safe in the last moments your mother was alive." He answered softly as he grabbed Clary's petite hands in his large ones and pressed a light kiss to her skin. "You can always trust me, Princess." His voice was still soft, but there was a pleading note to it as well as solemnity. He so wanted her to understand that he already loved her like they were of the same bloodline, that he had wanted to protect her since the first time he laid eyes on her porcelain flesh and emerald irises.

Clary nodded, her eyes slipping close as she allowed the words Magnus had said to settle into her mind. "Thank you." She whispered, not trusting her voice to say anything else.

"Come with me, I need only pack up a bit of my belongings and we can be on our way to the Lycanthrope and closer to your training."

Clary allowed Magnus to tow her away from the steel gates and back into the town, towards his cabin. She opted to stay outside the door, not wanting to go back into the threshold of magick and mystery that was his hut. As she waited, she found herself receiving odd glances and stares from the Children of Lilith. Deciding to shrug off the uncomfortable looks, Clary slid down the wall of Magnus' home, situating herself in the grass.

It was while she sat there that she found herself nodding off into the clutches of sleep.

_Green eyes__ raked over the unfamiliar surroundings, noting that whatever room she was in was one of riches despite it's plainness. A stream of light radiating from under a door to her left caught Clary's attention with caution she walked towards it. She grasped the handle and pulled the door open onto a gruesome sight._

_The crimson of his blood stood out from the white floor drastically. It seemed to taunt her as she looked upon it, screaming that she had failed. Clary moved her gaze from the scarlet liquid and to the boy it was flowing from. He was still so gorgeous with his fair hair and sun-kissed skin and his eyes could be considered a beautiful hazel colour if they were not frozen and lifeless, their mirth extinguished._

_She knelt down beside his body and cradled it in her lap, brushing his hair out of his face. She could feel tears building in here eyes and tried to keep them from falling since they would only mangle this boy even more._

"_Wake up. Please. You promised you would never leave me." She whispered with a hoarse and thick voice. Her head bowed over slightly and she released a scream of heartbreak and anger. She bent forward and pressed her lips to his forehead before standing and storming through the door while her body went through the transformation she had undergone so many times and a twisted smile highlighted her face as the flames began licking at her skin. _

Clary's vision blurred as she tried to open her eyes. She pinched her eyes shut as tight as she could, raising her hands to massage her temples before trying again. As her eyelids peeled back a sense of familiarity washed over as she took in the sight of her chambers on the Lycanthrope and the smell of sea salt filled her nose. Sitting up, Clary looked around, wondering how she had found her way back onto the homely craft, but repressed her wonderings as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.

Pulling back the bedsheets, she ran towards the latrine and turned up her stomach's contents into the wooden base of her toilet and moved back to lean against the wall. Images of her night terror flashed through her mind, furthering her confusion tenfold. She had no inclination as to who the boy was, why he was dead, or why it effected her so horribly and when she began attempting to answer every question that appeared, ten more questions would sprout up from the provided answer. There was a sense of hopelessness about it.

Magnus, seeming to sense the distress of his companion, entered the small bathroom and sat down beside the tear-stained girl. His hand stretched out and smoothed her hair, offering a slight gesture of comfort as Clary fell apart. No words were spoken, no questions asked; he knew that she would open up when she was able.

"I dreamt of a boy. Such a stranger, yet I felt a sense of familiarity, like I was in love with him. I just felt so connected to him." She trailed off with a sniffle before looking up at the glimmering warlock beside her. "What is happening to me?" She questioned, her voice portraying the pathetic fear that was bounding through her body.

Magnus sighed and combed his hand through his hair, his eyes glancing around the cabin. "What you are talking about is called duo unum fit animae. It means two souls becoming one, or what some call mating. It is a generally rare occurrence, only the strongest and wisest of magickal beings happen upon it due to how difficult and soul-shattering the trials can be." Turning his head to gaze into Clary's large green eyes, he managed a small smile. "It is both a blessing and a curse, one that you cannot deny. It will, however, become much clearer in time who this boy is."

With that, he pushed himself off the ground and offered his hand to Clary. "Come, we must begin your training."

Clary gazed up at her new confidant, and with a majestic grin, grasped his hand firmly.

* * *

><p>A grunt fell between her lips as she found herself knocked back onto the ground, a stinging pain resonating in her where her hip had connected with the rough wood of the ship. Clary glared up at Raphael, her anger only serving to fan the flames trapped within. Pushing herself up, Clary ran forward and attempted to punch the water user in his mouth, but found her back pinned against his chest with her arm painfully twisted behind her as he maneuvered around her attack.<p>

"Ugh!" She exclaimed as she pushed Raphael away. "How you expect me to learn how to fight defensively when you just use all the moves I have learned against me, is beyond me!" She stamped over to where Magnus was lounging and sat down on the stairs below him, crossing her arms petulantly.

A chuckle slid free of Magnus' lips as he continued to watch the two sparring, but his smile disappeared as soon as he saw Clary's scowling glare aimed at him. Moving down a step to sit beside Clary, he slung his arm around her like they were the oldest of friends. "Perhaps if I tell you of some of your history, you'll find your inner strength?" He mused, a small smile still easing up at the corners of his mouth.

"I am listening."

Grinning wider at the girl next to him, Magnus began his telling of the history of Cendrillions. "There are, as you know, four elements: water, earth, fire, and air. Each of the four are owned by one person meaning there are only ever four cendrillions in the world. Each of the possessors are said to be warriors and guardians of the elements and world, but that is only true if the cendrillion elects to perform good actions with the element." Seeing her open her mouth to ask a question, Magnus stopped for a moment before cutting across her. "I know you will ask, a negative action within regards to the elements is simply this; bending them to your own gain, using them to kill any person that is not an imminent threat, and ultimately using them to gain more power. I can see it in your eyes that you have doubt about your own previous actions, but I can assure you that from what I have been told, you did everything you could to not unleash a lethal force of your ability. You have not done anything wrong.

Each cendrillion will have emotional and physical ties to his or her element as well as certain physical attributes. An example of such an attribute would be your flame coloured hair or Raphael's ocean blue eyes; each of these appearances symbolize the power flowing throughout our veins. Cendrillions will have the ability to sense other of their kind along with demonic presences and warlocks.

I am quite certain that the question that has constantly plagued that sweet little mind of yours, is why you and Raphael, and the other two unknown Cendrillions were given such gifts as you were. The answer is really rather simple; the Cendrillion that harnessed your power before yourself sensed the strength that was already inside you and passed on her abilities to you with the help of myself, the warlock that was destined to become your companion. Kenna Herondale was such an extraordinary woman, she was. You carry her essence and all the previous Flame Tamers' essences within you. It is why your Elemental is named after her, she is essentially a part of you."

Clary absorbed the words flowing from the entity beside her quietly, not sure how to react. She did, however, feel a new inquiry looming in the back of her mind. "Were you there the day I was chosen, then?" Her voice was as grave as she felt and she felt her heartbeat race the slightest bit faster as she waited for the answer.

"It was the day you were born, Clary. I was summoned to you by Kenna and she gave over all she had to give." Magnus replied, his bright eyes looking deeply into Clary's grassy ones.

Clary nodded her head numbly, unsure of how to respond. After a few minute's silence, she stood up from her perch on the steps and walked to the edge of the ship, where Raphael was leaning. "I am ready now." She stated simply, fiercely.

Raphael nodded and motioned for her to stand a few feet away. As soon as he saw her take her place, his eyes brightened to a deeper blue with a liquid centre and water began streaming down his body. He brought his hands together in front of him, formed a ball of water, and looking to Magnus to imbue it with electricity and other offensive magick, threw it towards Clary.

Clary saw the ball coming towards her and, filling her mind with the thoughts of the woman who had given so much for her, a woman she had never met at an age she could remember, flames took over her. Raising her hands up and pushing as much heat through her palms as she could manage, she watched in astonishment as the ball of magick dissolved before making contact with her.

A wondrous and triumphant smile broke out across her face. Maybe she could do this after all.

* * *

><p><em>Translations: 'quantum sangunis nostri corporis subiungit et fit unus spiritus, sic et anima nostra merge' is Latin for 'as the blood of our bodies joins and becomes one, so do our lives and spirits merge'.<em>

_'duo unum fit anima' is, as stated in the chapter, Latin for 'two souls becoming one'_

_A/N: I am so utterly sorry this update took so long to get up. I had so much dramatic bullshit interfere with my life and schedule, and on top of that school was smothering me. Still, its unforgivable of me to leave you all waiting so long without a chapter, so I do hope that this one makes up for all that._

_Anyway, I will attempt to keep up with this better, but I make no promises as my life is a bit chaotic at the moment. _

_Also, don't forget that there is a banner for this version, I happen to think it's beautifully done and shows the side of Clary I imagine her to be like in this fic. There's also, as always, the newly updated with the songs in this chapter playlist. CHECK THAT SHIT, bro. _

_Are you all liking this version any better than the last? Or is it just as shitty/good? How about you review and let me know? :D_

_~TBANDL. _


	6. Chapter Five

Some Origins of Fire – Angels&Airwaves (Scene one)

Misguided Ghosts – Paramore (Scene two)

Dance Party – Sleeping With Sirens (Final scene)

**-Note: I do not own the Mortal Instruments or any character that is associated with the series.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: When All Else Fails.<strong>

Clary climbed up the ramp, using the protruding rungs of the wood to assist her, and finally stepped forth onto the deck of the Lycanthrope. She walked forward with small and graceful steps and smiled widely at the sight of the familiar men and wood. It had been nearly six months since she had last been aboard the watercraft, and she had missed it, longed for it, more with every passing day. Eyes roved over the dampened wood, the fresh and sharp sting of salt pierced her nose, and her heart beat fondly as it sensed she was home. For that was exactly as she saw the ship, as her home.

"Clary!"

Upon hearing her name, the disguised princess turned to see who it was that had yelled for her. The smile she had already adorned widened almost to the point of pain as Clary saw Lucian striding towards her, happiness radiating from his body. He neared her, his handsome and rugged face highlighted by his own smile and his hand placed cautiously on the handle of the sword dangling from his hip.

"Captain." She greeted warmly with a dip of her head.

The pair of them stood staring at each other intensely as though they were attempting to gaze into one another's mind and thoughts. Finally, Lucian pulled Clary to him, clutching her petite frame to his chest as he embraced her. A moment passed before she wrapped her arms around him and returned the affectionate gesture.

"Look at you. The Seelie Court took in a young girl and returned her a woman." He murmured as he pulled back, his oceanic eyes taking in her form. "You have grown so much in the short time you have been away. You have always been beautiful, Clarissa, but now your resemblance to your mother is breathtaking. I could have mistaken you for her if you were a bit taller." He whispered, his tone taking on a wistful and reminiscent tone.

Clary knew she had matured in physicality. The rigorous training she had endured had toned her muscles and the amount of time that lapsed with her bathing in the sun's rays had kissed her skin and cast a golden glow around her. She had also grown a fair few inches in height, though she had remained uncharacteristically short for her age, and her womanly figure had transformed her child-like body with supple curves. Her face had become much more angular as her cheekbones gained prominence and narrowed. Even her hair had undergone a change, its coloring enhancing in vibrance and flowing fell past the swell of her breasts in loose curls.

Each transformation, however, seemed lax when compared to the change her power had undergone. Clary could wield the flame with no effort or exertion. She could call upon the connection she held with the last descendant of fire and see what she had in her lifetime. Using fire as a defensive tool without unleashing offensive damage was as easy as breathing to her. The one obstacle she had yet to overcome was sustaining a single flame without need and fury as support. Magnus and Raphael both had told her it would come to her whenever she felt safe and pure happiness. Their words had only served to further irritate the young Cendrillion.

"I thank you, Lucian. Your words.. well, they are far too kind." Clary replied, embracing the man who had become more of a father to her than she ever could have hoped once more. As she stepped away from Lucian, a yawn tore free of her mouth. Embarrassed, a light blush spread across her cheeks and she shook her head as she heard the booming laughter of Magnus.

The Warlock in question had only just arrived to the ship himself and walked toward his two companions. He slung an arm around both Clary's and Lucian's shoulder, a pleased smile wearing across his lips as he greeted the pair. "Well, I see that the Princess here has wasted no time in reacquainting herself with old friends." He teased.

"Yes, she has." Lucian commented and turned to look at the glittering magician. "Are you, seemingly impossibly, wearing more sparkling dust than you were before?" He questioned with a slightly puzzled yet horrified expression.

"Glitter, Lucian, glitter. The wings of the Fae are coated heavily in it."

"Oh, yes, of course. And that is why you are covered and Clary is not?" Lucian quipped.

Clary laughed lightly at the odd exchange. Her eyes moved over the ship once more, catching the shadow of Raphael as he clamored about the deck, assembling and ordering the sailors before taking his place at the helm. "Lucian," Clary began saying and moved her eyes to his face, "where are we setting sail to?" She inquired, her curiosity overshadowing her better instincts.

"The Cove of Alicante. Why?"

Her eyes widened as he spoke the answer. Alicante was the city where they buried the royals of Idris and it had long since been overrun by Vampyres; they guarded the tombs and deceased bodies from the thieves that sought the treasure hidden within. Clary had only visited once, when her mother had been buried, but the experience was more chilling and frightening than she had ever imagined. "Wh-why would we travel to such a dangerous place?" She stuttered with a shaky voice.

Both men frowned at Clary, Magnus retracting his arm from her shoulder and leaning over to be eye-level with her. He watched as her pupils contracted, small rings of red biting into her evergreen irises. "What is wrong, Clarissa?" Through their bond he could sense her unease, feel the tension in her body rising swiftly.

Clary sucked in a rattling breath and closed her eyes, trying her best to control her emotions and push away the heat building in her chest and hands. It seemed that, no matter how determinedly she trained and attempted to hone her skill, her emotions could trigger reactions of power. "I just do not understand the reasoning behind such a voyage. Alicante is fraught with Vampyres and is close in location with Elysien. We could be captured, if not by the bloodthirsty creatures of darkness than possibly raiders of the King." Her words were partial in truth. She was worried, anxious even, of being taken by such beasts or being spotted by King Lightwood's spies. Deep down, however, fear was keeping her deadlocked in it's grasp.

Lucian pulled a hand through his greying hair and shook his head at the girl standing before him. "Do you truly believe that I have not considered such things? I have spoken to the leader of the Vampyres that have nested on the island. Simon has ensured me that no harm will come to us so long as I deliver what it is he requested." He explained, his voice growing weary and exasperated. Glancing over his shoulder, Lucian saw his first mate nod to him in signal that they were prepared to make way into the sea. "I will speak no further on this topic, Clarissa. The affairs of the Lycanthrope cannot and will not be decided on the fears of it's passengers." Reaching out he cupped Clary's face, her cheek resting against his palm as his thumb stroked across the bone there. His face softened as she relaxed into his hand and smiled a small smile at him. "I am glad to have you here once more, dear princess." He murmured before pulling away and retreating to the helm.

Clary looked at the Warlock whom had become her closest ally and friend and nodded her head in the direction of where their chamber lay. "It is rather late, I do believe I will retire now." She dipped her head at Magnus, walking away.

Magnus watched with worry laced eyes as she retreated and then finally disappeared into the small hallway of cabins. As soon as he was certain she was far from being able to hear and with a dive into her feelings to ensure she was as steady as she seemed, he sauntered to where Lucian and Raphael were huddled together at the wheel. Their heads were bowed, their voices hushed, but Magnus could distinguish the words being exchanged. The captain and first mate straightened when he neared. "The two of you have better know what it is exactly that you are doing." Magnus warned, his eyes serious. "If we do not play this perfectly, hell could break loose on us all." Each of their eyes met and Magnus was positive that the game they were divulging in was only just beginning and about to get evermore dangerous.

* * *

><p><em>Blood was seeping into the crème coloured sandstone beneath her feet, rising up to fill the room, and washing against her bare skin as she stepped froward. Her body collapsed amongst the rivers of red, forcing her to push forward by swimming. The smell of rust and copper and salt were churning her stomach, but still she forced herself to continue. She needed to get the other side, needed to find him. <em>

_Clary broke through the bloody sea and bobbed above the scarlet waves, gasping for air. In the distance she could see an island lined with what seemed to be statues of the Angel Raziel and his guard. The sight was nearly enough for the princess to weep, happiness brushing against her for the slightest of seconds. Her body surged forward, muscles propelling her to the bright isle. _

_As soon as she was free of the swirling waves that reeked of death, Clary fell into the sand around her. Her head moved side to side, surveying the area, and finally rested upon a huddled figure of gold. She crawled, her body too weak and sore to fathom walking, and made her way to what she could now see was a person. Clary reached out and turned the man so she could see his face. _

_Tears invaded her eyes and she was surprised to find them lack of flame and full of salt and water as they descended down her face and splashed against his. She moved to sit more firmly in the sand, her arms encompassing his lifeless body, and rocked as she stroked the side of his face. Looking down at him, Clary saw the wound that had taken her love away from her and pressed her hand to it lightly and pulled back to see black ink smeared across her skin. _

"_You were never a demon to me, Jace. Never." Her lips trembled as she whispered and a pained cry struggled free. She would never forgive him for killing her beloved, and she would get her revenge. _

Clary burst from her bed as her eyes peeled open. Her moved swiftly as she rushed to the deck and hung over the side, emptying her body's contents into the ocean. Her hand came up to her face and wiped along her mouth while her body slumped down to the floor of the ship. The pain running through her chest was great and searing, but she refused to focus on the affliction. Her mind honed in on the boy of her dream-rather nightmare-and pondered his identity. He had seemed familiar, as he did every time she dreamt of him, but she could not place where she had ever seen him. Her nightmares, though, never seemed too different; they always revolved around the boy with flaxen hair and golden eyes and his death, only the locations warred against each other.

"Clarissa?"

Chanced a look up and found Raphael staring down at her with imperceptible blue eyes. The two of them had not spoken to each other as often as they once had after she revealed her true identity to him. She understood that he needed time to process the truth and lies that had been told to him, distinguish between the two, and she allowed him the space he so required It had hurt her knowing he did not feel comfortable in speaking to her, bit Clary knew in her heart that she did not deserve his friendship if she were to base the foundation of such a relationship on lies and deceitfulness.

He sat next to her, his forearms resting atop his huddled knees, and looked at her in concern. "What is wrong, princess?" Raphael questioned, seeing the distraught expression clouding her face.

Clary smiled despite herself, she had not heard him call her that before and the way it fell from his lips was as though it were a term of endearment and not the curse she had always thought it to be. "I dreamt again." She answered with a grim tone. Cendrillions were not of the mortal and human realm, they were not intended to dream, therefore whenever they did it was said to be an intervention of fate. Clary did not understand such a concept as that of fate, but she was certain her night terrors were no blessing.

"Ah. Dying man of mysterious natures eluding you still?"

"Yes. I do not know this boy, Raphael. All I can seem to determine is that I must have once met with him because he looks just slightly familiar."

"And you do not know him?"

"No. I cannot place where I would have ever seen him."

"Is it possible your memory refuses to acknowledge?"

"Oh, no, Raphael. I do not think that is possibly by any means and standard." Clary answered with a secretive and feminine smile gracing her lips. She looked to her hands, wringing them around the tunic she had slept in.

Raphael laughed at her display and shook his head lightly before looking to her with a knowing grin. "He is attractive then, eh?"

A smattering of pink spread through Clary's face as she nodded and thought of just how attractive her dream man was. "He could rival Raziel himself." She muttered.

The water-weaver raised his eyebrows and smile evermore at his Cendrillion counterpart. "Truly? What is his name?"

"Jace." Clarissa answered while outstretching her arms before her in attempt to rid of her body of the last traces of sleep that were tingling through her limbs. She looked up at Raphael and frowned upon seeing the gaunt look of his tanned face. "What?" She asked, brow furrowing as she stared at him.

"It has to be a common name. He could not be what or who I think."

"Well, what is it you think?"

Raphael sighed, hand rubbing down his face as he pondered how to word his answer. "Jace, the name of your mysterious dream lad," he began to say and looked deep into eyes as if he could see the structures of her soul, "is also the name of one of the princes in Robert Lightwood's court."

As soon as the words flowed from his mouth, Clary's mind began playing childhood memories. She could see herself about the age of seven and standing in the court of what was then Western Idris, now known as Elysien, and standing in the crowd with her hand held tightly within her mother's.

_Her mother had brought her into the city to see a puppet show and she had been having the best day of her life. The boy standing to the side of her, however, had been distracting and pulling her eyes to him. He was the very essence of light with his tanned skin that held an unearthly glow and his yellow hair that was falling into his ocher coloured eyes.  
>"I am Clarissa." She spoke, her hand outstretched to the boy. <em>

_He smiled, dimples dipping into his cheeks. She could recall the feeling of his hand as he clasped hers and shook. "Jace." He released her palm and indicated to the raven haired boy and girl standing beside him, "These are my brother and sister; Alec and Isabelle." _

The last thing she could remember seeing of them before being pulled away by her mother was the two variants of blue that stared at her as she introduced herself and then her mother saying that she was to not fraternise with the children of the king. "I remember meeting him when I was a child. It was the one time I had ever met another royal and my mother forbade me from ever seeing them again. It confused me at the time, but I suppose I understand now. She was protecting me."

"Do you really think you have been dreaming of him?"

She nodded with a tiny smile. "I do. I really do."

* * *

><p>The sound and recoil of cannon blasts awoke Clary from her fitful sleep. Tearing the sheets of her bed away, she stood, her body alert and muscles tensed. Without hesitation, she ran to her small vanity and grabbed a pair of trousers and pulled them on hurriedly. She decided against wasting time with her boots and just as she grabbed her arm cuff and slid it over her Cendrillionical mark-a precautionary measure she had been warned to always take no matter the rush of danger-the door to her cabin burst open and Magnus' figure appeared. Sweat was dripping down his brow, electricity crackled in the air around him, and his face was lined in concentration.<p>

"Get to the deck!" He shouted and retreated in a shimmer of magick.

Clary did not question what it was that was happening, nor did she delay in reaching deep within herself to free her flames. With the activation of her inner matchstick, she could sense another fire aboard, on the deck. With a fierce determination she focused on the fire's energy and felt herself disintegrate into ash and embers. She held her breath as her body stretched through a glimmering hole in the fabric of the world that was veiled to all those who were Blessed and had the essence of magick in their veins. That hole in the universe allowed for a transference of body matter, permitting those of Lilith's, the Earth's, and Raziel's creation to transport themselves from end of a spectrum to another. It was also Clary's favorite aspect of being a Cendrillion.

It was pouring rain as she resurfaced on the deck, bathed in the flames of a slowly dying fire, Clary summoned forth Kenna. While the scythe materialised in her hands, her body shifted, contorting into a defensive and predatory stance. Her eyes widened as she looked upon the commotion on the ship, there were men fighting everywhere she looked, some laying dead on the bow and deck. Among the chaos, Clary could see Raphael fighting, using his water as maelstroms to wind around the advancing men, she watched as Lucian fought diligently with his sword, and finally, in a blaze of scintillating blue energy that surged forward and brought men to their knees, she found Magnus.

A scaly feeling crept along Clary's spine, a feeling that she had become all too familiar with and had come associate with being watched, hunted. Turning, she saw two men with swords at the ready, stalking towards her. She flashed them with a close-lipped smile and began spinning the axe in her hands, swirling the flames in which she was standing along with the blades. Clary observed as flames erupted around the men, halting them in their tracks and spinning around them in the same manner Raphael's cyclones were, and trapped them within. She ran, knowing that the flames would not inflict physical harm so long as she willed them to not, and made her way to where Magnus was locked in a fight.

Clary leapt into the sky, her back bending and arching with the dynamics of the wind and rain and throwing her body into a flip as she made her descent down. In a flurry of flames, she landed one knee down against the deck with Kenna tight her in her grasp by her side. Her hair was flowing down her back with flickers of heat licking at her curls, her eyes were a ring of bright red with speckles of orange blended into her pupils, and her clothes were rippling with fire. She pushed the fire forward, singing the wood below her, and captured all of the men that were on board that posed a threat with whirls of flame and ash alike.

"There is too many to fight!" She yelled to Magnus. "We need a plan!"

The Warlock nodded his head in agreement. "I cannot sustain much more, my power is waning." He said, panting and shutting his eyes for a moment against the pounding in his head. "Raphael," he started and turned to face him, "can you use this weather to your advantage?"

"I can try." Came Raphael's reply and he spread his arms wide, allowing full access to the rain as it pelted his body. When he opened his eyes again, water was swirling within his irises and the rain that had soaked into his shirt was being pulled away and forming a wall of water.

Magnus turned his attention to Clary once more and commanded, "Clarissa, when I say, blow the ship."

He ignored the stunned expression that shaded her face and spoke to Lucian with the finality of his plan. "Captain, steer the ship straight into the heart of Raphael's wave." With his instructions given, Magnus clapped his hands together with a resounding blast of thunder that rolled through the sky. His feline eyes slitted moreso while he channeled his power, pulling the electric currents that coursed through the air and sea to him.

Time seemed to still as Clary watched with wide eyes as Raphael began pushing his structure of water into the ocean below, stirring it and creating a wave larger than she had ever seen in her life. Magnus fortified the rippling water with his magick and she could see sparks flying around, encased in the clear liquid. Clary jerked forward, stumbling over her feet, as she felt Lucian turn the ship sharply, steering it as Magnus said and in the direction of the wave of lightning.

"Clarissa." Magnus' voice sounded within Clary's head and she whipped around to look at him. He was projecting words and images into her mind and she could see what it was he had planned and grimaced at the part she had to play. "Set fire to the hull as soon as you jump, you cannot look back, cannot worry about Raphael, Lucian, and I." He ordered and she watched as he dropped to his knees, whispering words in Latin to weave a spell. "Jump! Go! Now!" He screamed into her mind, causing her to wince.

Tears began to fall down in tiny spheres of fire from her eyes and she shook her head. "No, I cannot leave you!" She cried, her body shaking with the weight of her grief. As her power began retreating inside her, the fiery cages she had kept their enemy trapped in began to release. The crew of the Lycanthrope immediately began fighting back against the unknown men, but Clary saw one break through the brawling sailors and charged Lucian. With a strangled cry and gasp she saw the man's blade pierced through Lucian. Lucian surged forward to shove his own blade into the same man, but that damaged, Clary could see, had already been done and he collapsed.

She made to run over to the man who had been so like her father, but was stopped as Magnus held her back and threw her towards the siding of the ship. "Leave!" He shouted. "I will take care of the others!"

Clary opened her mouth to protest, but Raphael caught her eye and he nodded at her, mouthing the word 'go'. With another sob ripping apart her chest, she pooled all the power she had and projected the flames to the mast and allowed them to lap up the sides of the ship. She stared at Magnus for what seemed like an eternity before he pushed her once more to the edge of the ship. Clary did not hesitate or argue, and instead nodded to him and dove into the water below.

* * *

><p><em>Whoa, buddy. It has been forever since I updated last! That just seems crazy because I've actually had this chapter partially done for weeks. Maybe my dislike for the way it pieced together stopped me from wanting to post it, but I decided-after getting an amazing review-to go ahead and finish it up for you guys. <em>

_I know a lot of you are anxious for some Clary/Jace action and well...that's coming next chapter. I promise, promise, promise. Before I can do that chapter though, because these inspire me, I need to hear everyone's thoughts. So, if you're feeling charitable, type up and submit a review because they really will make me write and update quicker. If you think about it this way, if I know you are liking the story I will feel good enough about it to write another chapter, it makes more sense of why I want the bloody comments so bad. _

_I don't know if any of you know it, but this story is one I am incredibly insecure about because its so different and on my last version of it, I received so much hate mail (you changed it too much, took away from the original characters, yadayadayada) and it made me feel pretty terrible. I've gotten some flames on this one too and they've made me question my ability to even write anything decent, but a review submitted by CassClareFan100 made me rethink my fenced position of it all. Thank you for that, by the way, it meant sososo much. _

_Anyway, I'm done blathering down here and only have one more thing to say and that's the usual playlist crap I put in all chapters, you can find the songs on my profile. I know the links are disbanded and unworkable, but copy and paste, my friends, will get you far in life. _

_Love you guys. _

_~TBandL. _


	7. Notice

Okay, guys and girls, I really am loathe to do this to all..

But, I cannot write anymore updates for Entrapment. I will be going on hiatus from possibly the whole site altogether due to the mere fact that this story has been plagiarized. I am NOT okay with that by any standards. It may be a form of flattery in it's own way, but I don't like the idea that someone else is passing off my writing/ideas as their own. I was alerted to this massive heartache – and yes, it is a heartache for me – through a series of messages and I'm exceptionally hurt as I stated.

I am not sure when, or if, I will return to creating fanfictions. Maybe I will after FFn clears up the problem and dismantles the other story, I did alert the admins, so possibly at that time I will feel comfortable enough to come back and try again. I'm so very sorry for all my readers, this takes away from you all more than it does me, but I really am uncomfortable posting anything now. I'm honestly contemplating deleting my account, but I have yet to decide on that.

Anyway, I apologize to you all for this great inconvenience. I'm sad to go, but I am going. You all have given me great hope and reinforced a faith in my writing that I had lost along the way – except for the person who has done this – and I will be ever grateful.

Loves.

~TBandL


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